Chapter 15
“Hello, Zelda, it’s nice to see you back. I was just leaving.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jeanie.”
“We’ll talk about why she was here soon,” Amos said.
Jeanie gave Zelda a little nod and then walked quickly to her buggy. All the way home, Jeanie was plagued with guilt. She shouldn’t have left there without telling Amos she was pregnant. He might’ve felt different about his options if he’d known that. Rain started falling hard. The sky had gone from blue to gray in a matter of minutes.
* * *
When Jeanie got home, Werner was there to unhitch the buggy for her. She pulled a raincoat over her head and hurried into the kitchen to find Magda.
“You’re all wet, Jeanie.”
“That’s because it’s raining.” Jeanie arranged the raincoat over a chair near the kitchen stove to dry.
Magda turned to look out the window. “So it is. I was so busy baking I didn’t notice. The last time I looked out the window, the sun was shining.”
“It smells amazing and I’m so hungry.”
“Want some warm bread?”
“Soon, but first I have to tell you what happened.”
Magda stared at her. “You talked to him?”
“Jah, sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Magda bustled over to take a seat and then Jeanie told her what had just happened with Amos, and about Zelda coming back.
“That’s no good.” Magda sighed and then shook her head.
“I know, I should’ve told him about the boppli. He might not be so keen on me.”
“Nonsense.”
“It’s true, he said something about it once.”
Magda locked eyes with her. “You must’ve misunderstood him.”
Jeanie knew what she’d heard, but Magda could be so dogmatic about things sometimes it was easier not to argue. “Anyway, that aside, now that Zelda’s back this might change things.”
“Nee, you just told me he was going to tell her things wouldn’t work out between them. He’s been enjoying spending time with you each Saturday.”
Jeanie bit her lip. “Should I go back now and tell him about the boppli?”
Magda’s cheeks puffed. “Do we have ownership of the farm?”
“You know we don’t.”
“Then, nee, now is not the right time to tell him. Not if you don’t think he’ll be pleased.”
Jeanie stared at her mother-in-law. She was certain being deceptive was not the right thing to do as a woman of Gott. It certainly didn’t feel right. “He could change his mind once he sees Zelda again. I’ll be forgotten.”
“Don’t say it.”
“What’s going on?” Werner said wiping his wet face with a towel.
They both turned to look at him. “You’ll catch your death. Change out of those wet clothes,” his mother ordered.
“I will, soon as you tell me what you were talking about.”
“Nothing,” Jeanie said.
“It’s women’s business.” When he stood there staring, Magda added, “Cramps and such.” A look of horror covered Werner’s face and he turned on his heel and left them alone. Magda chuckled. “Always works.”
Jeanie shook her head, and then whispered, “I don’t know if I can carry on with all this deception with Amos.”
“Don’t you want your boppli to call someone Dat?”
“I am growing fond of Amos, but Malachi has just died. I can’t replace him with the snap of my fingers.”
“You’ll never replace Malachi. Don’t even think that way.”
Jeanie shrugged. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen over time someday.”
“I’m an old lady and I need to tell you that things happen when you make them happen. There were two of us young women interested in Malachi’s father, but I made sure he chose me.”
Seeing the wicked gleam in Magda’s eyes, Jeanie knew she didn’t want to know any more about that. “I prefer to leave things up to Gott. Maybe He wants us to start somewhere else on our own, just the three of us. Well, the four of us now.”
Magda shook her head. “You can’t give up so easily. Amos will make a perfect husband for you. Who else would you marry? I can’t think of anyone more suitable.”
Jeanie put her hand over her stomach. “I’ve got other things to occupy my time at the moment. And, anyway, he won’t think much of me when he learns I’ve been deceiving him.”
Swiping a hand through the air, Magda said, “Many women don’t know they’re pregnant until they’re six or seven months along.”
“That doesn’t sound right. 'Many?'“
“It’s true. Well, some women, anyway. Believe me.”
“I can’t keep secrets. If I marry him or anyone else, I have to tell them the truth. Secrets aren’t good to keep.” Jeanie leaned back in her chair. “I just wish we knew one way or the other. I’m past caring about the farm now. If we’re going through these struggles I’m sure it’s not meant to be.”
“How can you say that? You’re being undecided. Gott doesn’t like lukewarm people — people who are wishy-washy. First you want the farm and then you don’t. You have to make up your mind what you want. Look how hard you and Malachi have worked. Do you remember what it was like here when we arrived, and what this very haus was like?”
Jeanie thought back to the dusty barren fields and the house with the doors falling off the hinges, the mice dirt on the floor and even on the kitchen countertops. They’d practically rebuilt the house, too. “You’re right. We put all we had into it, but Amos did say he’d get us another house. Which, I guess, kind of sounds like we’re taking a handout and I don’t like the way that feels.” Jeanie leaned forward placing her elbows onto the table. “We have to leave this with Gott, Magda.”
Magda lifted up her hands. “Gott works through these, and He uses this.” She tapped the side of her head with one of her fingers.
Jeanie kept silent. There was no point trying to reason with her mother-in-law when she set her mind on something.
* * *
That night, Jeanie prepared the evening meal while Magda slept. Magda often had an afternoon nap, but today she slept longer than usual.
Just when Jeanie was fixing Magda’s dinner on a tray to take up to her, there was a knock on the door. She put the meal back in the oven and hurried to the door. When she opened it, she was taken aback to see three police officers. “Oh,” she said with a lurch of her heart. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Yoder?”
“There are two Mrs. Yoders here. Myself and my mother-in-law.”
“Were you married to Malachi Yoder?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Graeme.” He nodded his head at the male and the female uniformed officers with him. “Officer Peters and Officer Wickers. Do you mind if we come in?”
She stepped back. “Yes. I mean, no. I don't mind. Come in.” She showed them to the living room, still flustered, wondering what was wrong. Were they going to say that Malachi was in the wrong and the accident had been his fault?
“We’re sorry to have to tell you this, but we have reason to believe your husband’s death was no accident.”
Chapter 16
Jeanie gasped at the news. If her husband’s death hadn't been an accident, did they mean that he'd been murdered? She looked at the three strangers and tried to figure out what they meant. “What?”
“I’m afraid it's so.” Detective Graeme nodded and the corners of his mouth downturned.
“He was murdered?”
The detective said, “The driver of the car, who is now deceased, was a known criminal. In his possession, we found a note with instructions on how to hit a buggy so the occupant, your husband, would be thrown out.”
She gasped again. “No!”
He nodded. “We have reason to believe he was paid to kill your husband or at least cause him serious injury. It’s obvious he wasn’t planning on killing himself in the process.”
Werner came into the room and when he saw Jeanie’s distressed face he rushed to sit beside her and put his arm around her. “What’s going on?”
Jeanie said, “This is my husband’s brother.”
The detective repeated what Jeanie had been told. “Do you know anyone who’d have wanted to harm your husband in any way, Mrs. Yoder?”
Jeanie looked at Werner, and he shook his head. “No,” he said, looking at Detective Graeme.
“Me either,” Jeanie said. “I can’t believe this. I thought it was just an accident.”
Werner said, “What do you know about this man, the driver of the car?”
“Mitchell Booker was a criminal for hire. He’d do anything for a price. He’d been arrested for armed robbery and several incidents of breaking and entering over the years.”
“Tell me about Malachi,” the detective said.
Jeanie looked at him. “He was a good man.”
“He worked on the farm here?”
“Yes, he did. We all work on it,” Jeanie said.
Detective Graeme leaned forward looking between Jeanie and Werner. “Who inherits the farm?”
Jeanie and Werner looked at one another. She looked back at Graeme “We don’t own it,” Jeanie told him.
“Who’s the owner?” Detective Graeme pulled out a pen and a notebook.
“Amos Troyer. He’s from our community.”
“And how would we contact Amos Troyer?”
“I can give you his address,” Werner said.
“Go on.”
While Werner gave him Amos’s address, Jeanie’s thoughts turned to Magda. How would she tell her this awful news? “No one would want to kill Malachi,” Jeanie said.
“It’s still under investigation, but it does appear your husband’s death was no accident. Otherwise, we certainly wouldn’t be disturbing you like this.”
Tears escaped her eyes. “I can’t believe it.” She stood up and wanted only to be by herself.
Werner jumped to his feet. “I think you should leave us alone now if that’s all right?”
“Yes, of course.” The three of them stood. “We’ll be in touch.” Detective Graeme handed over a card. “Here’s my number. If you think of anything that might help our investigation, please call us.”
“Thank you.” Werner took the card. “We will.” As Werner showed them out, Jeanie collapsed onto the couch and everything faded around her.
Jeanie opened her eyes to see two worried faces; Werner and Magda were leaning over her. Confused, she tried to sit up and Magda said, “Wait. Stay there. Werner, get her some water.” Werner disappeared, and Magda said, “You fainted.”
Jeanie wondered if she’d been dreaming. She looked around. “The police?”
“They're gone. Werner told me what they said.”
Jeanie closed her eyes. It was true. It made everything worse. There were so many things she didn’t understand. She had naively thought, back when she joined the community and gave her life over to God, all her troubles and worries would disappear and she’d have a life of safety and peace. Then Malachi died … no, he was killed. Was God testing her? That had to be it.
Was it God’s will Malachi had been murdered, or was it some evil force that had cut short his life? She felt a wet cloth on her forehead and opened her eyes. Werner had come back with a glass of water and Magda was arranging the cool washcloth. Relaxing, she was grateful for their loving care.
“Sit up and have a drink,” Magda said after a few minutes.
She took the cloth from her forehead, gave it to Magda, and sat up. After a sip of water, she looked at Magda. “Werner told you?”
“Jah.”
Jeanie knew they were trying not to worry her by keeping quiet about it. “Who would’ve done it and why?”
“It’s not for us to concern ourselves with, Jeanie. Vengeance belongs to Gott. He will punish the person who did this to Malachi.”
“That’s right. You have to put it out of your mind,” Werner said, and then added, “Mamm told me about the boppli.”
“Magda! I thought we were keeping it quiet.”
“You’ve gotta tell me. I’m family,” Werner said. “I’m an onkel.”
“I told Werner and that’s all. He knows to keep it quiet. He won’t say anything. I was worried when you fainted.”
Jeanie took another sip of water wondering who would want her husband dead. “He never harmed anyone. He only ever helped people.”
“Don’t be concerned about that now. It must’ve been a mistake. Police don’t know everything.”
Jeanie nodded, but in her heart, she knew there was no error. Malachi’s name was on that piece of paper from the other man’s car. She was certain that’s what the police had said. Tomorrow, she would visit the police and find out all she could.
Chapter 17
Jeanie knew Magda would disapprove of her going to the police, so she’d had to let her think she was going to run some errands. As soon as she walked into the police station, she saw Detective Graeme talking with someone. When he saw her, he excused himself and walked over.
“Mrs. Yoder. You’ve remembered something?”
“I’d like to ask some more questions if I could.”
“Yes. Come through to an interview room.”
Once they sat, the detective began, “I’ve just been talking to Amos Troyer. It’s interesting to us that the owner of the farm you’re living on knew the deceased.”
“Of course, he did. They grew up together.” She frowned at the detective. “Of course Amos would know who was living on his farm.”
“No, sorry. I’m not talking about your husband, Mrs. Yoder. I’m referring to Mitchell Booker, the driver of the car.”
“Amos knew the driver? The man who crashed into my husband’s buggy?”
The detective nodded.
Jeanie wondered how Amos would know an Englischer who was also a criminal. “How did he know him, did he say?”
“No, he didn’t, but one or two of Booker’s acquaintances said an Amish man had been talking to him.”
“Where was he talking to him?”
“At a club.”
Jeanie shook her head. “Amos would never go near a club. Most definitely not.”
The detective raised his graying bushy eyebrows. “We have CCTV footage telling us otherwise.”
“Can I see it?” She was convinced it wasn’t Amos.
“No. It’s in evidence. We might need you to view it later, though.”
“I doubt it’s him. It wouldn’t be. Was the man in Amish clothes?”
“Yes.”
“It could easily be someone else then. It could’ve been anyone. Was there a clear view of his face?”
He stared at her and she was sure there was pity in his eyes. “How can I help you today, Mrs. Yoder?”
She swallowed hard ignoring the uneasiness within. “I want to learn more about this man you say killed my husband.”
“There’s not much to know. If you wait a moment, I’ll get the file.”
“Sure.” While he was gone, she looked around the gray room. There was a camera in one corner of the room, but no mirrors like she’d seen on police shows she’d watched before she’d joined the community. From how Detective Graeme had been talking, it seemed Amos was the only suspect.
When Graeme got back, he sat down and opened the folder, pulled out a mug shot and slid it across the table to her. “This is Booker. Have you seen him before?”
The man in the photo had short dark hair and a large moustache. His eyes were close together, a classic trait of criminals in the mystery books she used to read in her former life. “No. I don’t believe I have.”
He took the photo back. “As I told you, he’s been in and out of trouble most of his life. Since he was sixteen, and probably even younger.”
“Do you have any idea why this man would’ve done this?”
“Money. Someone paid him. The question we need answered is, who wo
uld want your husband out of the way?”
“I can’t think of anyone. Malachi was just a quiet man who worked hard on our farm. He got along with everyone and didn’t associate with anyone from outside our community.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes. He wouldn’t have had the time even if he’d wanted to.”
The detective moved in his chair. “What happens now that he’s gone?”
“In what way?” she asked.
“For a start, what happens to the potato farming business?”
“I’m not certain.” She didn’t like to tell him all the carrying on that had happened with Amos.
He leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Well … haven’t you talked with Amos Troyer?”
“Yes, but I’m interested in your version of things.”
She frowned at the detective. “We’re staying on for another few months and then Amos will decide what he’s doing with the farm.” She didn’t tell the detective about Amos offering them a house because that might look as though Amos wanted them off the farm urgently.
“What are the financial arrangements with Mr. Troyer? Are you leasing the farm from him?”
Frowning, she asked, “Surely you don’t need to know all this?”
“It might help.”
“Look, I converted to Amish and I know they do things very differently. You might not understand how they do business. It’s all about relationships and it’s not about the money. They do handshake agreements on most things.”
The detective laughed. “Everything’s about money and I’m sure the Amish are no different.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I don’t believe so. Either way, tell me about the arrangement with Troyer.”
She sat there and told him the truth of how they came to run the farm and had built it up from nothing. “So, you see, it would benefit Amos to keep us there.”
“But why would he want you to stay now that it’s valuable? Couldn’t he sell it? According to my information, when he inherited the farm it was run down. I’d say Troyer has done very well out of your family.”
The Amish Potato Farmer's Widow Page 7